


esme and stu make salted caramel brownies

by jonesyyy



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: (its seb and tillman), Aftermath of Day X, Autistic Stu Trololol, Baking, Canonical Character Death, Charleston Shoe Thieves (Blaseball Team), Esme's Haunted, Gen, Grand Siesta, Grief/Mourning, Howell Franklin (mentioned), Lesbians, Season 9 Day X, T for non maincord appropriate swears, Tillman Henderson (mentioned) - Freeform, everyone but esme and stu are just mentioned but they get talked about a lot, friendly teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28933872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonesyyy/pseuds/jonesyyy
Summary: alternate title: please forget your leather jacket in my life and come back later for itduring the grand siesta, esme and stu make brownies, and talk about friends, loss, love, horse books and salted caramel
Relationships: Esme Ramsey & Stu Trololol, Esme Ramsey/Jessica Telephone, Stu Trololol/Charlatan Seabright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Charleston Shoe Thieves Fanfiction





	esme and stu make salted caramel brownies

**Author's Note:**

> stu is a trans lesbian and uses she/her, esme is a non-binary lesbian and uses she/they
> 
> warning for food the whole way through, warning for mention of pills/medicine at the paragraph that starts _‘jess is-’ esme sighs_
> 
> biiiig warning for discussions of grief, canonical character death (including that of a sibling), possession, ghosts through most of the second half so avoid if that's not your jam

esme is whisking the eggs and sugar when she hears the lock click on the floor below. she checks her phone and it’s 2:21, exactly on Stu Time. stu comes as she pleases, but esme’s learnt to guess her patterns enough now that it’s not a surprise when they hear stu thundering up the stairs. she doesn’t have keys (keys are an insult to a thief) but at least she has the decorum to come in through the front door and not the upstairs window (looking at you, richardson). 

just like how stu first came into their life (they think as they watch the mixture fluff up in the mixing bowl) with an expected-unexpected-not-unwelcome entrance, swinging her leather jacket over the back of the spare chair in esme’s season 3 hell brain. if esme’s brain is her own two floor flat then stu’s shoes are always in the corner of the room, next to the door.

and just like that stu kicks the door open to esme’s second floor combined kitchen and sitting room (with a lovely view of this particular Charleston), kicks her shoes off and flings off her jacket (in the same place as usual). esme breaks into a grin. stu rests on her elbows on the counter and slouches down so all they can see is her face and crossed arms, and looks quizzically at the electric whisk esme forgot she was brandishing.

‘what’s cooking, ez?’  
‘salted caramel and chocolate brownies. there’s another big bowl if you want to melt chocolate and make yourself useful.’  
‘can i lick the bowl?’  
‘ _we’re_ licking the bowl, bitch.’ esme says, waving the dripping whisk in stu’s direction.  
stu shoots straight up and salutes esme, and pulls one of the bowls that’s heat safe out of the lower drawers like she’s lived here all her life, and gets to work, snapping the chocolate bar with her hands and counting the weight on the scales.

‘how much do i need?’  
‘185 grams.’  
‘mmmm-kay.’

they spend a while contentedly sitting in silence like two cats, listening to the music (bossa nova) warbling out of esme’s phone and the water simmering while stu melts the chocolate and esme sifts flour.

‘i like your nails.’  
stu leaves the wooden spoon in the bowl of melting chocolate to show esme her nails, and they’re black with iridescent glitter that turns green-jade-turquoise when she wiggles her fingers, showing off. 

‘damn, they are nice.’  
‘yeah, it’s like, my favourite colour. you can borrow some if you want!’  
‘your favourite colour is dark green?’  
‘nah, like, iridescent stuff. the colour changing ones.’  
‘oh sweet! thought it was pale blue.’  
‘oh no, it’s that too. you like yellow, right?’  
‘how’d you know?’  
‘i meannn…’ stu says, gesturing to esme’s chest, and - oh yep, the sunny yellow knit jumper she’s wearing. and their yellow socks with little cats on.  
‘damn, yeah, i guess i do wear a lot of yellow.’  
‘it suits you! goes well with your hair.’  
‘yeah, got new braids last night.’  
‘they’re really nice, i like the pastel pink.’  
‘yeah, thought i’d try something different from the blue or yellow ones. might go for purple next time.’  
‘oooh, purple would be cool. they look really good on you!’

‘hey, c’mere.’ esme says, setting the big bowl of white egg mixture down next to the stovetop where stu’s been melting chocolate. ‘will you pour the chocolate in? we gotta fold it in now.’  
‘oh, okay!’ stu says, hopping up to sit on the counter between the stovetop and esme, leaning down to grab a tea towel hanging off the handle of the oven to protect her hands, and gently lifting her bowl up, tipping the chocolate into the mix, watching it marble together.

‘so, how’s your girlfriend?’  
stu goes pink in the face and jumps a little, almost spilling chocolate all over the counter.  
‘uhhhh, well, uh. how’s jess doing?’  
‘ _stusannah!_ i cannot believe that you got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me first! i am so upset right now!’  
‘you _are_ like, the first to know!’  
‘oh brilliant, we’re friends again now.’ esme says, scooping the last bits of chocolate out of stu’s bowl with a red spatula. there’s a pause.

‘one of the mills? oh my god, stu.’  
‘look, ez, ok, she’s a fucking pirate, and she’s so goddamn hot, and she’s part ghost-’  
‘i’m not trying to be mean, stu, i’m just… i’m impressed. damn.’  
‘wow. woooooooow.’  
‘also howell owes me ten bucks.’  
‘you bet on my relationship? ez! oh my god!’  
‘look, he was like, ooooh, esme, they’re going to get together in nooooo time, and i was like, franklin. these are sword fighting lesbians. i refuse to believe this is anything but a slow burn rivals to lovers with swords situation.’  
the tips of stu’s ears somehow manage to turn even redder.  
‘and i was _right!_ ’  
‘wow. i cannot believe you’ve done this to me.’  
‘i was right though, yeah?’  
stu sighs overdramatically and runs her finger along the edge of the bowl of chocolate, licking off the last bits that didn’t make it into the other bowl.  
‘yeah.’

‘nah, nah, tell me more about her, i wanna hear.’ esme says, folding in the molten chocolate.  
‘well, she’s on the mills, and she’s so fucking cool, like, she has a proper sky skip, like, an actual pirate ship, with a big wheel and everything!’ stu says, flapping her hands up and down. ‘she’s got _swords_ and everything.’  
‘don’t you also have swords?’  
‘i have _a_ sword. she has swords.’  
‘do yall have like, gay little swordfights or what?’  
‘maaaybe…. maybe.’  
‘kissing each other on the mouth in your gay little swordfights?’  
‘hey! you’re just being mean, now!’  
‘that means i’m right!’  
‘who does that mean you owe money to now?’  
esme gasps, bringing her own hand up to her heart. ‘stu, i’m not that much of a scoundrel! i would never!’  
‘would you? wooouuuld you?’  
esme laughs, folding the chocolate into the egg and sugar, watching them swirl together.  
‘i’m happy for you, stu. i really am. she sounds great. when am i gonna meet her?’  
stu blushes, and kicks her legs against the oven door. ‘you’re not my mum.’

‘seriously though, stu, she sounds cool as hell. hey, d’ya wanna mix in the dry stuff? i measured them out earlier, you just gotta sift everything in.’’  
stu grins, and nods, bouncing off the countertop to bring a big red bowl full of flour and cocoa powder over, and esme hands her the sieve as they pull a pan for themselves off the hooks, and begins to weigh out the sugar.

‘i used to always want to eat cocoa powder as a kid.’ esme says, as stu looks disparagingly at the flour at the bottom of her sieve that’s not going through.  
‘whoever like, put it in the same aisle in the supermarket as drinking chocolate should be thrown in jail.’ stu replies, seriously.  
‘i tried like, 4 times, to eat it.’  
‘4?’  
‘i’d get some on my finger and eat it, and then it’d be like, that’s so gross! but i thought because it tasted so good i must have got a bad batch or something, so i ate it again-’  
‘oh my god! and this happened like, 4 times?’  
‘yeah i- i guess i thought we just had really bad cocoa powder in my house? and then when i was like 17 my friend said ‘oh cocoa powder is disgusting’ and i was like yes! finally!’  
‘ _seventeen?_ ’ stu says, disbelievingly.  
‘look, okay, i didn’t- stop being mean to me, stu! you’re being mean! i thought we were even by now!’  
‘i’ll never forgive you for the fucking, the fucking xbox thing! i believed you! you lied to me ez, you lied to me! you told me it was pronounced sk-box in this dimension and i believed you!’  
‘to be honest, to be honest-’  
‘hotbox’s _face!_ ’  
and esme dissolves into giggling for a while, and stu laughs, leaning against the counter and looking out of the floor-to-ceiling windows - and the low afternoon sunlight streams in, and paints the flat gold.

‘not like you didn’t get your own back, though,’ esme adds, breaking the silence.  
‘i cannot believe you believed that.’  
‘what, that you had flying horses in your original reality? i wanted to believe that! i wanted that to be true so bad!’  
‘i mean- ez. esme. wait..’ stu stops her sifting and slaps both hands down flat on the counter, leaning in. ‘were you a horse girl?’  
‘just because i took like, four riding lessons, ok-’  
‘oh my god!’  
‘i was really bad at it though, don’t worry. but i had all the books.’  
‘horse books?’  
‘yeah! horse books! they had like, pink glittery covers, they were about magical horses and shit-’  
‘wow. cannot believe you’re a horse person.’  
‘no, sexton wheerer’s a horse person, dumbass.’  
and that gets stu, properly gets her, makes her throw her head back with laughter and almost knock the bowl, and esme swears at her, and stu swears back, and then they fall back into silence. since, well - blaseball - stu’s realized she likes silence more than she thought she did. it gives her time to breathe, if anything. not that she doesn’t like being around esme, but it’s been a hell of a few years. she watches esme weighing out butter on the scales, and lets herself bask in it, for a moment, take it all in.

‘but, seriously, how is jess?’  
esme pauses for a moment, and stares into the now bubbling caramel in the pan. they’ve got an expression that stu can’t read, but stu can make an educated guess that jess is- well, doing bad. she can imagine.

‘do you want to talk about it?’  
‘uh, lemme get the cream,’ esme says, reaching around the bowl that stu’s folding the mixture together in to get the pre-measured half-cup of cream (esme’s neat like that), ‘and uh. yeah. can i talk about it?’  
stu nods at them, silently.

‘jess is-’ esme sighs, eyes closed for a second, and looks down at their pan again, slowly stirring. ‘i love her but she’s still a bit of a fucking mess right now. it’s- she’s getting better. she’s still torn up about… just everything, really. there’s a therapist involved. and melatonin. it’s not fast. but she’s getting there, i guess.’

‘fuck, ez. i’m so fucking sorry.  
‘you don’t have to be, stu.’ esme says, a flash of anger in her face.  
‘let me be.’ stu says, firmly. ‘this is fucking awful, ez. we both know that.’

‘she watched- she watched her brother die, again, right in front of her, stu- and she- she said she couldn’t _feel anything_. like- like she’d been gouged out from the inside, she just stood there and watched - and she won’t stop beating herself up for not doing anything. even though she couldn’t. it’s horrible. it sucks.’  
stu’s hand hovers over esme’s shoulder for a while, before she places a gentle hand on her forearm. just to remind esme she’s still here. esme’s hand drifts to stu’s - and they place their own hand over hers - like an anchor in a storm.

when esme takes her hand away to grab the salt for the caramel, still bubbling away a little, stu keeps her hand in place.

‘it’s a lot to cope with. it really is. god. i’m sorry.’  
‘i feel. ugh. i feel bad that i can’t be by her side all the time-’  
‘please don’t put yourself through that, just- don’t. you don’t have to be strong or caring or- there for everyone,’ and stu takes her hand off esme’s arm and points to her chest, just where their heart is, ‘you gotta be there for yourself too.’  
‘i know, i know, it just-’  
‘it sucks ass.’  
‘yeah. it sucks ass.’

‘thanks for being there for me, dude, back when axel was. y’know.’  
‘we were there for each other, stu. i was going through it too.’  
‘at least they’re back.’  
‘huh. little pleasures, i guess.’  
‘could have been worse!’  
‘stu, that’s not even funny.’ esme says, somberly, taking the caramel off the hob.  
stu folds her arms. ‘yeah. it’s not. sorry.’

esme leans over to the bowl of brownie mix, dipping their finger in and licking it off, and can’t help but laugh, heart lifting, at stu’s suddenly deeply affronted face.

‘since when were we allowed to eat the batter?’  
‘i’m just taste testing! i’m head chef.’  
‘what am i, then?’ stu says, looking offended.  
‘you’re one of my underlings.’  
stu collapses onto the countertop in fake shock, clasping one hand over her heart and one hand across her forehead, knocking a fork off of the counter as she goes.  
‘i’m so upset, esme! i’m so offended! am i not important enough to you? you’ve done nothing but _slight_ me since i got here-’  
‘oh, shut up,’ esme says, prodding her with the fork they just picked off of the floor. ‘you can have some too.’  
‘oh, well that’s alright then.’ stu says, leaning up on her elbows and dipping a finger into the brownie mix while esme takes out the baking trays.

‘just one.’ they say, as if they can see through the back of their head to where stu is trying to be as non-suspicious as possible (and very much failing at it) at eating more of the chocolate mixture in the bowl.  
‘aw c'mon.’  
‘the rest is for the brownies. don’t you want brownies?’  
‘yeah, fair.’

esme takes one of the butter wrappers out of the top draw of their fridge and begins to grease the tray to make sure the baking paper will stick, while stu rights herself and reverts back to where she always sits (on the counter, legs dangling down).

‘with the whole, y’know, ghosts thing, and jess, can, uh. can you see sebastian? would- would it help?’  
esme pauses for a moment.  
‘shit, sorry, is that a bad question? fuck, sorry.’

‘nah, nah it’s fine!’ esme replies, snapping out of a second lost in thought. ‘it’s just… it’s complicated.’  
‘i shouldn’t have asked. sorry.’  
‘nah, don’t worry, it’s not a big deal. i’ve explained to you how the whole thing works, right?’  
‘yeah, i know. sorry, that was a dumb question, she’s grieving and shit, and- wait, did they even like each other?’

esme laughs a kind of strange, sad laugh, and answers, ‘oh god, that is a completely different can of worms.’  
‘sibling shit?’  
‘sibling shit but like, hyper turbo sibling shit. quantum sibling shit.’  
stu winces with a kind of familiarity. esme pulls the baking parchment out of the drawer and begins to cut it, talking as they do.

‘yeah, like- fuck, it’s complicated. y’know how, jess was basically keeping seb stable the entire time? like, timestream shit or whatever. temporal abnormalities. something like that. and since, like, seb got. y’know. alternate reality’d - i hope that isn’t offensive-’  
‘nah, you’re good.’ stu says, smiling.  
‘apparently back in his… home dimension he was the more stable one. and now she literally keeps - _kept_ \- him alive, and it just makes it worse, yknow? jess tells me how she always felt so awful about him being- in her shadow all the time. he didn’t tell her, but he never felt like his own person, y’know? and then he dies and everyone is like oh, jess telephone’s brother got got! and maybe a few people are like, seb telephone got got! but nobody hears them. and, you know the rest, right?’

‘yep.’ stu replies, popping the p. ‘hall stars. god, that must suck.’

‘and that just made it worse, because he died, again, and she just watched! not like she could do anything about it, but, y’know, and everyone else got freed, and, well.’

‘and now he just kinda, hovers around, y’know. sometimes he’s just sitting there in my brain when i’m with jess, and he doesn’t do anything. i think he’s sulking?’  
‘god, that sounds familiar. if you ignore the, like, quantum shit.’  
‘yeah?’  
‘just, axel and stuff. he never meant it but i would just get pissed at him for no reason because sometimes i felt like - i dunno, like an extension of him? i love him, duh, but i would get mad that i could never be my own person. where people wouldn’t even bring him up to me.’  
‘yeah, i get that. i mean, only child, but i get that.’  
‘when he was like, the best pitcher in the whole league, and i was his sister. i wasn’t stu or anything. i was like an extra limb.’  
‘fuck, sorry.’  
‘you’ve got nothing to be sorry for!’  
‘i’m sorry that you were having a shitty time, stu.’  
‘huh. thanks.’ stu says, awkwardly folding her arms. she rubs her shoulder with one hand, like she’s nursing a wound.

‘seb just sorta, watches, i guess. doesn’t ask to come in or anything. he’s chill. and besides, it’s not like the players in the hall can talk much, i guess?’

‘oh?’  
‘yeah, if you’ve been in there a while, uh. some of them kind of lose their sense of speech. they get all- weird and shit’ esme rubs her forehead with her hand, leaning on her elbows at the edge of the counter. ‘i think it might be the water pressure? remember how tillman was all,’ esme does air quotes, ‘ _fucky_ , after he came back?’  
‘ah jeez, yeah. dude was struggling to speak, and he was there for like, what, just over a year?’  
‘it’s hard to hear them sometimes. sometimes they’re angry or sad or emphatic or everything, and i’m just here like, i don’t know what you’re saying! i can’t hear you! it’s… super weird. they’re… nice though.’  
‘yeah?’  
‘they just wanna come and see their old friends. and it’s a little creepy, but hey? what did i expect? blaseball, babey!’ esme laughs an unhappy laugh, looking down into the floor.

‘fuck, man. i hope you’re doing ok, dude, just, please please please tell me if you need a hand and shit.’  
esme looks up at stu, and smiles, punching her lightly on the arm. ‘yeah, of fucking course, dude. you do the same too?’  
‘yeah, dumbass.’

stu sighs. ‘sure does suck!’  
esme stands up and opens her arms to stu, and stu smiles, feels the weight lift off. they’ve got each other, once a thief, best friends forever, et cetera et cetera.  
‘bring it in?’ esme says, and stu sure does.

‘now... you have to help me get these bad boys in the oven.’  
‘yessir!’ replies stu with a brisk army salute.

stu holds the baking paper around the edges back so esme can pour the batter in and spread it out evenly (‘you’re still uneven in the left corner,’ stu says, and esme spreads a blob of batter with her spatula around the tray) and then grabs the caramel pan, drizzling the salted caramel over the surface in thin lines, swirling it into the brownie mix with a toothpick. ‘now,’ they say, licking off the toothpick and pointing at stu with their spatula, ‘we have to clean up the bowl, bitch.’

‘hey, when are you next seeing charla? you should take some of these to her,’ esme suggests, halfway through emptying out the caramel pan (some of it to keep in the fridge, some of it to eat). ‘oh, you’ve got caramel on your chin.’  
‘oh yeah, shit,’ stu says, mouth full, ‘and like, this sunday? she’s sailing out to meet me here over charleston. really?’  
‘gay. anyway, you’re welcome to grab a few. ladies and gaydies love my baking.’  
‘that better be true.’  
‘how do you think i have a girlfriend?’  
‘your enduring loveliness and charm?’  
‘aww, you flatter me. anyway, seriously. take it as my blessing.’  
‘i’ve already stolen like, three of your cake tins!’  
esme reaches down to pull a tin out of a draw, shouting over her shoulder and over the clanging of tins, ‘those are rookie numbers! howell has like, eight!’  
‘huh.’  
‘yeah, i help him bake for the girls sometimes. he already knows how to do most things, but like, i’m so cool and good and amazing at it. but yeah, it was jillian’s birthday and she wanted a huuuuuge chocolate orange cake,’  
‘oh my god, that’s the sweetest. wait, what about-’  
‘oh the fur? yeah. there aren’t enough hairnets in all of the charlestons combined to cover that man. but he wears gloves, and that works well enough. anyway,’ esme pulls out a red cake tin with little white hearts out of the drawer. ‘here ya go.’  
‘wow. cute.’

half an hour later, when most of the bowls and spoons and spatulas have been thoroughly ‘cleaned’, and then actually cleaned with washing up liquid and hot water, esme takes the tray out of the oven, and wobbles it to make sure it’s all fairly solid inside (only fairly, they’re nicer squidgy). stu helps turn them out to cool and then cut them into neat, almost even squares when they’re still a little too warm. esme places five brownies, marbled with caramel on top, into the baking paper-lined tin she set aside for stu, and leaves the rest on their cooling rack. 

‘high five?’ esme asks, holding up her hand, now they’ve taken the oven glove off.  
‘oh hell yeah!’ stu replies, and it’s a good, proper high-five, where both their palms are stinging slightly and stu shakes her hand out afterwards. they’re standing there, in esme’s glowing golden-hour kitchen, laughing like idiots, and esme throws her arms around stu’s neck in a big hug that pulls stu down a little, and stu hugs back, and it’s just… nice. just them, being around each other. stu gets to breathe, for once in a while. she buries her face in esme’s shoulder, and just breathes.

stu wriggles away a little, and esme pulls away, but leaves both of her hands resting on stu’s forearms, keeps them there.  
‘shit, i should probably head off now.’  
‘wait a sec,’ esme says, and pushes the cake tin into stu’s hands. stu takes it in both hands, and holds it close to her chest, running her fingers across the little hearts on the lid.

‘fuck, thanks man. thanks so much for having me over. and uh, for these.’  
‘thanks for coming! and it’s no problem! hope it goes well with charlatan. seriously, i bet she thinks you’re the coolest.’

‘you’re- you’re the best. really. i mean it. come round to mine if you need to,’ stu says, picking her jacket off of the back of the chair and beginning to lace up her boots, ‘there’s always a place for you there when you need it.’

esme watches stu disappear down the stairs. ‘i know.’

and they look down at the cooling tray full of still slightly warm brownies, and they sure do know.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks 4 reading :D
> 
> i'm ellis in maincord and the shoebox, and jonny-dykeville on tumblr where i sometimes but rarely post blaseball stuff! this is my first blaseball fic, i had a ton of fun writing this, comments are v much appreciated!


End file.
